Part 21 (1/2)

Expectation ran high as I produced the key of the padlock to unchain the big chest, for we had purchased an old lock at Alderney, from mine host of the inn. The lid was raised, and I produced the three books, but as no one could read them they were put down as evil-smelling things, musty and mysterious.

Next the small golden casket was produced and handed round, amid great exclamations of delight, for I had polished it till it glittered again in the sunlight. The polished gems on the lid and sides found great favour in the sight of mother and Priscilla, who were quite lost in wonder as to where I had obtained it. Presently I opened it, and poured the uncut gems out upon the table, as a sample of Jethou pebbles; but they were not much appreciated, although when held to the light they certainly shewed rich colouring.

”Only fancy walking about on a beach covered with these coloured stones.

I should think they look rather pretty when they are wet with sea water and the sun s.h.i.+nes on them. But then I suppose when you see them by the _ton_, day after day, you take no notice of them?”

This was Priscilla's idea, and when I told her that they were not so common as to be walked upon or shovelled up by the _ton_, but that they were really and truly diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, in their natural uncut state, she would scarcely believe it. Even my mother expressed her incredulity with the remark, ”Go along, boy! I suppose we shall not know a turnip from an apple next?”

As my veracity appeared to be at stake I now produced a little pouch of cut, l.u.s.trous gems, which at once brought forth quite a different flight of exclamations and queries.

”The ducks! How lovely! How they glitter! See how the sun makes them look as if they were alight! Are they _really_ real? Where _did_ you get them from? Are they yours?” and a dozen other questions were put to me in as many seconds, but I only laughed and said:

”Now do you believe me?”

The gold dishes, chalices, etc., were also produced, and made a great impression--gold always does.

My good old dad stood by, looking very grave, and gave a very emphatic shake of his head, so I said:

”What do you think of it all?”

Another shake of the head, and then:

”I don't know what to make of it at all, Harry; but if these things are yours, I hope you came by them honestly. Such things are not indigenous to Jethou, you know!”

”Not indigenous to Jethou! Why, Alec will bear me out that they have been indigenous to the island for scores of years, won't you, Alec?”

”It is quite true, Mr. Nilford. These things have belonged to Jethou for a century at least, but I cannot affirm that they are actually the native produce of the island, any more than the contents of these bags.”

He thereupon pulled out one of the great leathern bags and placed in my father's hand, who nearly dropped it, as it weighed over a stone.

When the old gentleman saw the huge silver coins, each more than double the size of a five-s.h.i.+lling piece, he seemed spell-bound.

”What are they? Are _all_ the bags full?” he queried.

”Yes, dad; and now if you will all sit down I will tell you the history of my curious cargo.”

Then I told them from beginning to end the entire history of Barbe Rouge's h.o.a.rd, just as it is already known to the reader. I wound up my wonderful recital by calling for pen, ink, and paper, and there and then writing off to M. Oudin, in Paris, giving him a full account of the find, and asking what should be done with the property.

By Priscilla's desire I did not visit the Priory that day, but on the morrow, after lunch, I took my heavy stick and strode up the gravel path and gave a very important rat-a-tat-tat at the great oak door. The servant who answered my summons informed me, much to my disappointment, that both Mr. Johnson and his son had gone to Liverpool the previous day, the former to see the latter off. Something of importance, the servant thought, had caused him to depart two days before the date upon which it was at first intended he should leave Barton. With a glance at my big stick I thought perhaps I had somehow influenced his _hegira_, and such I afterwards found to be the case.

As I was bidding the servant (who did not know me) ”good morning” she asked my name, and upon my mentioning that I was Mr. Nilford's son, asked me to wait while she fetched a letter which had been left in case I should call. Mr. Johnson had also left a letter for Miss Grant. This I said I should have much pleasure in delivering, and took them both.

Arrived home I found Priscilla waiting for me in great anxiety, fearing that if Walter Johnson was at home something serious between us might occur. Probably something would have occurred. She seemed greatly upset, and taking me aside, said she had something to impart to me, which I must promise to forgive her for. I consented.

”Then, Harry, I must confess to having written to Walter Johnson yesterday. No, do not look in that terrible manner, for I did it both for your good and his. I simply informed him that you were home and would call upon him to-day, so that if he wished to avoid a violent scene he had better hasten his departure.”

I could say nothing to this, as I felt that what she had done had saved a deal of bother. Then I handed her the letter inscribed with her name.